Lost and Loneliness

Lost and Loneliness is quite possibly a rejected Jane Austen title that never quite made the grade. It follows the same pattern as Pride and Prejudice and my favourite Sense and Sensibility, but doesn’t really grab you and the more I think about it doesn’t make grammatical sense either – it should be Loss and Loneliness or Lost in Loneliness. But neither of them quite fitted my mood.

I played around with the online thesaurus and came up with Adrift and Abandoned. A bit dramatic, even for me.

Last night I went to the theatre to see Austentatious – an improvised Austenesque play made up on the spot after title suggestions are shouted out from the audience. Getting the title right is of utmost importance.

Youngest son and I saw something similar at the Edinburgh Fringe based on Sherlock Holmes, so I had an idea what to expect and as a lover of all thing Austen – except the ending of Sanditon on TV recently – I decided I wanted to go.

The problem was I only found out about it the other week and it was almost too late to ask anyone to go with me.

But an independent woman of means is always in want of light entertainment and won’t let a lack of a companion stop her!

The day before the performance I received an email from the theatre with directions to car parking nearby. It looked a doddle, I fixed the map in my brain, as I tend to do, and set off into the night.

Everything looks so different when it’s dark and as I neared the town centre where the theatre was located, I realised this wasn’t going to be as straightforward as I imagined – it was ever thus!

I stopped a couple of times to consult Google Maps but still ended up in a car park the other end of town. Deciding at least the car was safe and secure I set off, once more consulting google maps – why does the arrow not point in the direction you are walking???

At least the predicted 800 metres ahead of me was not daunting, now I am much fitter, I had sensible flat shoes on even if I was only wearing a thin wrap – well one does like to dress up for a theatre visit.

The streets were silent and strange – had I thrown sense out of the window? Was it purely my pride that spurred me on? I confess I wavered and wobbled a bit but with some persuasion to my inner self I kept putting one foot in front of the other and finally the glow of the theatre was before me.

I had time to claim my ticket, use the facilities and get a drink before settling down in my seat ready for the show to begin.

After rejecting such suggestions as “Trouble and Strife at the Whitehouse” and “Lust and Lycanthropy” the title of the performance was decided, we are about to see the one off performance of “Formally Known As Brian”.

I am quite convinced this tale, about the status of having the right name, was the inspiration behind Oscar Wilde’s classic “The Importance of Being Ernest”.  It followed a similar plot. Our heroine Clarissa Ward declared she could not marry a man called Brian Peanut. Some name changing, misunderstanding and chaos ensued until a satisfying resolution was reached. Although the solitary duck in the pond was killed, the Peanuts lived happily ever after – a true Austen classic ending. (Take note producers of Sanditon – as if they’d be reading this! Hahaha)

The play was delightful and the walk back to the car, once I consulted google, was actually more straightforward.

As I wandered, not quite so lost I remained just a little bit lonely. I had no one to share my experiences with. The play was a one off the only other people who knew the minor plot of the dead duck were now scattered, no one else would find it quite as funny.

I honestly don’t mind doing anything on my own, walking, going to the cinema, even eating out alone. I don’t always like the lost feeling of walking somewhere new in the dark, but I’ve come to terms with those demons.

Driving home last night along the windy country lanes I remembered a previous journey made years ago. It was the first long journey I undertook a few weeks after losing Andrew, I had my two young sons with me and I was the sole responsible adult. It was dark and so very foggy it was actually scary. I recognise I’ve come a long way since then. I am almost a different person.

I have proved my resilience over and over again but there is still a small ache, a chip in my heart that leaves me not quite complete. Perhaps I never will be totally whole again.

Online dating doesn’t seem to be the answer… I might write more on that another day; I might give it another go next year – November is NOT the right time and I didn’t think things through properly when I started this quest for romance.

Maybe somewhere out there is a Mr Darcy or Edward Ferrers waiting patiently, or even impatiently. I’m not quite sure how I find him, if he will find me or if my life will ever be as Austenesque as I wish it to be.

Undeterred I will plod on, improvising mostly in a style all of my own. Trying not to get too lost and combating those brief moments of loneliness with a smile and a new adventure because an independent woman of means is always in want of some excitement in her life and won’t let a lack of a companion stop her!